


Don’t Be Afraid

by nachtmaredoll



Series: An Expression of the Heart [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Final Fantasy VII Compilation Spoilers, Final Fantasy VII Remake Spoilers, Final Fantasy VII Spoilers, Multi, light mentions of physical injury, light mentions of the “other side” of the Honeybee Inn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachtmaredoll/pseuds/nachtmaredoll
Summary: Cloud swears he fell asleep in Aerith’s church after spending the day tending to her flowers and the pool of healing water from the Lifestream. He knows this to be true. So, just why and how, is he waking up in his childhood room with two sets of memories of his time in Midgar after Zack’s death? And what in Gaia’s name is he supposed to do about it?“Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud.” ... Easier said than done.~ upped rating to be safe ~
Relationships: Andrea Rhodea/Cloud Strife
Series: An Expression of the Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065266
Comments: 20
Kudos: 32





	1. Waking Up

It was… _jarring_ to say the least. Falling asleep out at Aerith’s church after attending to her flowers and the still slightly bubbling water of the Lifestream. The touch of the Ancients, those lost Cetra souls. He _had_ fallen asleep out there, he _knew_ that he had. In every fiber of his being. So, _why then_ was he waking up in his childhood room, on his bed and completely confused? 

He could hear his mother humming as she moved around the kitchen and cooked. He could even hear the slight scratching of pencil on paper, probably her writing down sewing and seamstress notes for work.   
  


Things… _itched_ at him. 

He had not had a good, stable memory since that night in Nibelheim when Sephiroth had gone insane, burnt the whole town, attacked Tifa, and had tried to kill him and Zack. Had technically _succeeded_ in killing him and Zack. After that, it was nothing for five years. Then haze, as Zack had lugged his mako-comatose body from one end of the continent to the other. 

The rest after that he knew clearly, but then it was a blur of merc work and Avalanche. Then it was them rescuing Aerith, meeting Nanaki and all the rest. That was all still clear. Somewhere in that was his fall into the Lifestream, and the second dose of mako poisoning that led him to being comatose. Ironically, it was after that incident that his and Zack’s memories drifted apart. 

He could remember Meteorfall, meeting Denzel and the start of Geostigma. The apologies given to them all by Rufus and the last remaining Turks. Whispered words of guilt that were choked back with sobs as Reno confessed to getting to Zack’s rescue _too late_. Apologies that he hadn’t seen Cloud. 

Meeting, and ending, the three brothers braced them for more secrets. Even if he hadn’t really helped Vincent out with Deepground. He’d been nearby if the man had needed any help. 

All of that he knew to be true.   
  


So… why then, was there _yet another_ set of memories rattling in his head? A set that began at the first reactor mission with Avalanche, that then introduced an apartment, Marle, Roche… Chadley? These were not people that he knew. 

The memories overlaid everything. Aerith was slightly different, more carefree and playful. Tifa was just as sweet though more gentle. It was easier to be teased, to be playful with them. Jessie was… not as annoying as last time. He could feel her arms around his waist as they raced Roche. Could see Roche’s smile and hear his crazed laugh as he weirdly protected him, Biggs and Wedge from the Shinra ambush. 

Betty was sweet with her cats. He helped with the Watch—had that existed the first time around? Then there was Oates and Moggie, the sweet kids. Marlene hadn’t changed much though. Chadley was… _weird_ though. Reminds him of a younger Kadaj. 

Tseng’s hair was longer though. Reno showed more chest, and Rude spoke more. He wasn’t even going to begin to contemplate Rufus’ “outfit”. No fashion sense in that one. 

The Leaf House, and Ms. Floria was also new. Things that either hadn’t been before, or had slipped his notice. 

The collapsing of the Sector 7 plate still hadn’t changed, though. Minus Wedge living just a _little bit_ longer. He nearly cried over Biggs and Jessie though. Wanted to place them together, but they had no time. 

… that night was… 

_Prior to that_ … getting into Don Corneo’s was still… not the _same_ but _similar adjacent._

Ronnie was still a bonehead. 

Aerith fought with him in the Coliseum, and they met Madame M. He couldn’t remember her from the first set of memories though. Didn’t remember the Trio as existing. 

Andrea Rhodea though? He _had not_ existed in his first go around. Neither had Jules. Though, the gym still stood in place. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

Easier said than done. Far far easier said than done.


	2. Circling Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a week and Cloud’s gotten nowhere... mentally at least. Physically? He hasn’t gotten into any fights, so... that’s a plus?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is a good egg for his mom. 
> 
> Andrea’s words may or may not be starting to annoy him.

He’s fourteen years old. He checked. _Several_ times a day over the last _week_ , he has checked the year and his age. He is due to leave for Midgar to join Shinra in a month. And he has to figure out if he even wants to. 

He fears it, fears that going will start things. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

He also _really_ wishes Andrea’s words would go away. He’s still pretty sure the man was talking about admiring beauty and Cloud wearing a dress, and not _at all_ meaning the harsh realities of death and destruction. Still, he’s heard those words echo in his head all week as he’s played mannequin for his mom and run errands for her in town. He even found himself doing a round of squats and pull-ups when annoyed and angry with the other kids. 

His temper is still too brash and red-hot though. Mentally mature and in his twenties didn’t cross over to his body. Sadly. 

Not that he knows why or how this happened. He’s tried praying to the Cetra, tried being still and asking for guidance, but all that ever comes in the quiet is Andrea’s repeated words of not being afraid. It, honestly, isn't helping. At all. With really anything… ok, it’s helped him be his mom’s little helper with her dresses and seamstress job, but _beyond_ that. 

  
He wonders how everyone else is. Where they are, what they’re doing. He knows Tifa’s right next door, but he hasn’t seen her all week. As he also knows that Vincent is asleep in his coffin in the Shinra Mansion. Yuffie is still at home in Wutai, Zack is a SOLDIER 3rd Class and the three 1st Class men are still fighting a war in Wutai. It worries him. He doesn’t know at what point that Sephiroth and Genesis get into the fight that Zack told him about. At least Nanaki is at home in Cosmo Canyon. Cid is probably working with—and yelling at—Shera over his rocket. Barrett shouldn’t be injured, and Marlene doesn’t even exist on her parents’ radar just yet.

He wonders if Jessie is taking acting lessons, if Wedge has his first rounds of cats, or if Biggs is helping teach kids at Leaf House. He also wonders about Roche, if he was always wild or if something happened in the med bay or the labs. If Hojo fucked with him like Zack and Cloud, or Sephiroth. Vincent said that Deepground was wild and not fully sane. It _is_ very possible. 

All that he worries about during the day. Every day. All day. 

_At night…_

He finds himself thinking of Jules, Ronnie, Jay, Madame M, Leslie—he wasn’t too fond of Sam—and then, _of course:_ Andrea Rhodea. 

He honestly hadn’t thought about the man, or the other occupants of Wall Market after their infiltration into Shinra to rescue Aerith, and especially not after the mad dash around afterwards. 

And, like he’d thought through when he woke up here: the man _had not existed_ in the “before”. 

It was those late night wondering thoughts that caused him to seek out a magazine on Midgar and it’s various attractions at the general store just that morning. He had wanted to see if the Honeybee Inn would be mentioned—it _was—_ and if the star and owner was still Andrea Rhodea— _it was_. 

The magazine had even featured a picture of the man on stage, in a sweeping bow and a showman’s smile plastered on his face. Andrea hadn’t looked happy in the picture, but it had still been photographic evidence the man existed in this new timeline. Which was the sole reason that he’d bought the thing, and then proceeded to cut out the picture and place it in one of his books for safekeeping.

Not like Cloud could get anywhere _near_ the Honeybee Inn while being underage, nor could he begin to explain to Andrea what was all in his head if he did manage to meet him. He wouldn’t be believed. He barely believed himself. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

He still _really_ wished that mantra would cease and desist.


	3. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud tries to figure out what to do once he reaches Midgar... and truly begins to think of the memory of Andrea’s voice as a nag.

In the end, Cloud decided he still needed to go to Midgar, though he wished he could take Tifa with him. It wasn’t possible though, as her father _still_ blamed _him_ for her getting hurt a few years back. It hadn’t been his fault, any of the times. But, alas: que sera sera. 

He couldn’t change it the first two times, couldn’t stop Tifa this time and nothing he said or did in the last few days had worked. No apology would be accepted from him by Mayor Lockheart. 

He honestly didn’t care much over it though. 

What he _did_ care about was paying attention to his mom, helping her more and more—even allowing her to put him in dresses and comment on if something felt _off_. Too much lace, bad boning, off structure. All terms she’d never really drilled into his head, but he was trying to pay attention to _now_. He’d lost her, twice, so why _not_ let her use him to tailor and fix the girls’ dresses? It wasn’t like she had him go outside in any of them. Small towns are _not_ meant for that kind of thing. Besides, when he doubts or stresses over anything these days, Andrea’s words come back to nag at him. Sometimes they’re comforting, like when he nearly gets into fights, but mostly he’s getting annoyed. 

It’s not like those are the only words the dancer ever said to him, and yet they’re the only ones that take up residence in his mind. 

Currently? He wished they _hadn’t_ fueled him to venture up to the Shinra Mansion to go looking for Vincent. But he was. He did have a pair of gloves on, and a makeshift sword though. Wouldn’t be wise to go in unarmed after all. 

* * *

Note to self: Vincent is in no place of mind to help and he’s alive because he’s a _child._

Second note to self: Vincent is a prat and acts like a child. 

_Pot. Kettle. Vincent._

* * *

He hums as he sits on his bed that night and reads his book—having pressed the picture of Andrea into a protective sleeve—and begun using it as a bookmark.

It’s not like he has many figures or mentors to look up to. It’s not even like Andrea is _all good._ More so _chaotic neutral_. Maybe. Reeve would know the philosophy better than he would. 

He’s also pretty sure that he has a crush on the older man. It’s not the first time he’s developed a crush on an older guy, but being mentally older and wiser, he feels really dumb for it. It’s not the wisest thing to do—though he thinks it’s been present since their dance. 

He just ignores and accepts it as existing instead of fighting it. He’s underage, and no matter what else Andrea gets up to or is involved in, he somehow knows this will be a hard line and one loud “no”. He still wants to talk to him, though. Get advice, have a sounding board or something to help him figure a few things out. He’d kept the earrings after all. 

There wasn’t much time left before he would travel to Midgar, and he needed some form of action. Sadly, he kept bouncing between finding and stalking after Zack or Roche within Shinra, or: catching Andrea’s attention. 

The more he thought over it, and how he would need funding for his ideas, the more he leaned towards Andrea. But, he would need to offer something to catch the elder’s eye. 

… There _was_ his mother’s sewing, and all the mending and lessons she’d given him. He could also fix corset boning… 

Perhaps? But still: _underage._

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

He stifled an annoyed scream into his pillow as the nagging mantra echoed once again in his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Cloud’s mother being a seamstress and having used him as an unwilling mannequin to fix structure and form of dresses before, and him suddenly being far more okay with actually giving input with memories of being stripped (hidden or not) on stage and out into a dress by Andrea to get into Corneo’s and save Tifa. 
> 
> Also: there is mutual crushing going on in THAT DANCE and no one will ever convince me otherwise. 
> 
> Also also: has anyone else noticed the little hum/moan noise Andrea makes after Cloud’s reveal?


	4. Stargazer Heights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud finally talks to Tifa and gets a surprise before he leaves for Midgar.

It took time, between packing his things and taking extra lessons from his mom on sewing—and dancing in his room at night—to catch Tifa out in town without any of the gaggle of kids that hung around her, but he finally managed it with only days to spare before leaving for the mako fueled city. 

It was also a really _bad_ sense of deja vu to be up on the water tower again, and even if he had managed not to be too weird about it, he _still_ ended up promising her to save her if she was ever in trouble. He supposed that some things he said would stay the same. 

He sincerely hoped that didn’t apply to others or the world at large, however. At least, not to Genesis, Angeal or Sephiroth. 

“Dilly dally, shilly shally.” He blinked out of his thoughts, turning to look at Tifa in silent questioning. Her hands were gripping the edge of the tower, of their perch on the solid base for the water holder proper. 

“Huh?” He couldn’t honestly be sure he heard her right, not with the way so many other things had always echoed in his head over the many years and lifetimes that he’d apparently gone through. 

“You’re procrastinating again, Cloud.” Tifa’s voice was soft and low, but slightly amused even as he could see a few tears slide down her cheek. “Do you think I wouldn’t know you by now? After everything?”

He frowned, feeling his “patent pout”—as dubbed by Cait Sith and Yuffie—fall into place on his face. 

“You’re going off to Midgar, and you’re going to meet Aerith and you’ll forget all about me.” Tifa’s voice cracked as she sniffled again, but he heard her clearly. Heard their friend’s name clearly.

“You… know Aerith?” He felt a little dumb, asking the question of her after she’d said the name first, but he wanted and _needed_ full clarification.

“Mmhm.” Tifa hummed again, and rubbed at her eyes, wiping away the tears. “Will you say hi to Biggs, Wedge and Jessie if you see them?”

“...” He blinked, thinking it over. Over the possibility that he wasn’t alone in this weird warp, and that once again it was Tifa at his side, proving to him what was reality and what wasn’t. “You could join me.”

“Huh?” Tifa made a sniffing sound again, like she couldn’t stop crying. He considered how emotional they’d both possibly be going through puberty—again. He knew he’d get taller, but he didn’t know if Tifa’s had a hard or easy go of it.

“You could join me in Midgar. I’ll work hard, get a place off barracks and you can join me. Stop a few things before they start. Master Zangan would probably teach you again.” He wanted her near him, to keep him grounded. Tell him when he was being dumb or foolish. Besides, they’d lived together watching and raising Marlene and Denzel—and how he missed that kid _so much_.

“... I… yeah.” He looked up as the sniffling finally stopped, and she looked up at him with that old smile. Cocky, confident and _sure._ “Yeah. I’ll save up my money too! And you’ll write to me?”

“I promise.” He smiled at her, then laughed when she jump-hugged him, nearly sending them both off the platform. It was a promise he could keep this time, without the guilt and failed hero-complex. 

* * *

Midgar was _loud_. By Gaia, it was _so very loud._ But, he was here after so long. He’d spent the trip working for the merchant that had offered to bring him, and had taken up odd jobs at every pit stop and town between Nibelheim and Midgar. He’s saved up enough to visit Marle down in Sector 7 and pay for a room before his birthday and the first round of recruiting. Helping out on the trip had helped build up his muscle mass, and had saved them so much time that they were actually ahead of schedule. Good work ethic apparently sticks in you after two lifetimes of merc work. 

His first trip after being released from his last job for the merchant was the post office to buy two postcards, one for Tifa and one for his mom, and sending them off. Writing would be the cheapest way to communicate to them both until he could save up enough for a cellphone. Or, until he made it into the Shinra infantry. 

As much as he hated the thought, it was his best bet to find Zack and Roche, to either stop things or just gather two friends. Or, frenemies in Roche’s case. He honestly looked forward to seeing the wild biker again, to get his hands on a new Fenrir that would surpass the last and keep up with Roche’s beautiful beast. Ok, that’s a little mean on his part. 

Shaking his head at himself, he shouldered his bags and made his way to the train station. He wanted to find Marle and hopefully get a room at Stargazer Heights before going around and finding low level merc work he could do with his craptastic sword. He couldn’t even carry the full sized swords that he was used to yet, that had been the mako baths and cloning done by Hojo. No shortcuts this time around, even if he did make it into SOLDIER. This time, he would already be prepared for the treatments. 

Hopefully.

* * *

Marle thankfully _was_ still the owner and landlady of Stargazer Heights, and while still gruff, refused to take his money until he got a steady income coming in. He ended up in his same old room, and was thankful for the familiarity. Especially as he could feel the panic and worry, the ptsd, kicking in on him. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

The echo had returned, and for once since it began to nag, was a calming balm to his tattered soul.

Sitting up, he grabbed his gloves, his sword and his backpack. He was going to be doing a lot of running around, so packing food and water would be best. He wasn’t enhanced anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m trying to decide on Andrea’s age in this (no underage things will happen!!!) and I’ve even checked the Wiki but all that it says is “middle aged” by the setting in 7R... so, is there a believed consensus? 
> 
> If not, I’m swinging at him being between 38 and 45 in the game but I can’t decide. Note: Cloud is 21 in-game.


	5. Healing Errands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is asked to deliver something to Wall Market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has slight, vague mentions of derogatory thoughts/opinions on a few people in Wall Market, and a bit of a conversation on how vices are treated by society. It’s nothing too harsh, but just: be careful ok?

He wouldn’t outwardly say that he was avoiding Aerith like the plague, but… he was avoiding Aerith like the plague. He hadn’t initially thought that he would, when a Watch request from Wymer sent him over to Sector 5 to deal with a few wererats and hodgepies bothering the kids’ hideout, but upon seeing her wearing a soft light blue dress without the hair ribbon sent him backpedaling and had him near hiding from her. 

And he has done so every day since. He makes sure not to be near Leaf House when she is, no matter the time of day. Though he does leave donations and money with the housemother, in request for some of Aerith’s healing herbs. Thankfully, the woman simply thinks he’s just shy and doesn’t ask questions, instead she treats the request like any other slum transaction. 

He also may have flinched and bolted upon seeing Biggs teaching one day. He wasn’t ready for that yet, to be pulled in by the older teen and tended to like another of the kids. 

Thankfully, again, Andrea’s words didn’t rattle around in his head. Though fear, panic and uncertainty aren’t always the same things. So, maybe the words and his own mind, were giving him a little break. Hopefully. He truly didn’t expect the silence to last. His mind never did stay quiet for long. No respite from all the demons.

* * *

It was almost a week of living in Sector 7 and helping out around Sector 5 when he’s caught by the doctor outside of the community center and asked to deliver some things over to Sector 6’s Wall Market. 

The man says the healing herbs are for a dancer, the “star of the show”, the man says derisively and on borderline of disgust and condescending. The instructions are to take the package to the “odd gym”, and to return quickly with his payment—apparently the doctor doesn’t give free treatment to the residents of Wall Market. 

He keeps his tongue, keeps his temper—but just barely—and makes a point to carefully place the box in his backpack before seeing the housemother. He suspects that the herbs and flowers actually came from Aerith, and he wants confirmation. Payment goes to proper sources in his opinion. And the doctor just talked his way onto his bad side. 

“Oh, hello Cloud.” He smiles slightly at the woman as she turns from talking to another teacher and smiles down at him. “Where are you off to today?” 

“Wall Market apparently?” He hums quietly, biting the inside of his cheek when she gets a judgemental look. It is soft, and equal parts guilty, but it is still present for the briefest of flickering moments before a faux smile takes its place. “The doctor has asked me to deliver a care package for some star dancer?” 

“Ah. Yes. Andrea Rhodea, the star of the Honeybee Inn got injured during practice last night, and apparently ignored it through the full show and work after.” He felt himself frowning at her words, still wary over the subject, but there _was_ a concerned sound to her tone. That softness found in truly caring hearts. The kind of softness that made him forgive more careless thoughts and actions. 

“Is he alright?” He was worried, and wondering just why Andrea would possibly risk injuring himself as the man didn’t seem the type to push himself past healthy limits. 

“I don’t know, Cloud. The request came from his brother, Jules. I asked the doctor to make the poultice, as Aerith’s mother would not allow such things.” The woman sighed then. “Not a lot of people care for Wall Market, and especially not for the top centerpiece of Don Corneo’s Trio. Mr. Rhodea isn’t truly bad, at least to my knowledge, but his brother has a little less… scandalous reputation.” 

He was beginning to see the doctor’s reasoning, but still. Thoughts like that only serve to isolate the Sectors, leaving them all more vulnerable to fiends and Shinra politics. All the propaganda. Wall Market did serve as a veritable living entity that represented all vices and had many people that would rather it didn’t exist at all. Out of sight, out of mind. Unless a money filled request came out of it, unless someone had enough money to spend on a vice and then ignore it happened in the daylight. And while all profited, or indulged in, the services of Wall Market, they would all gladly turn a blind eye to troubles. 

**_True beauty is an expression of the heart._ **

He sighed, forcing out all his angry thoughts into something softer and more cohesive. People’s nature is not inherently evil—except Hojo—and Wall Market isn't some innocent or misunderstood place. He knew what it was, and yet he still couldn’t resist or fully dispel the protective anger that bubbled up for Andrea and Jules. Not after all they’d done for him, Aerith and Tifa. 

“... Anyways; the doctor always charges Jules an arm and a leg. Says the brothers ‘can afford it’.” He tuned back into the woman’s words, wondering how much he had missed while lost in his own mind. “Honestly, Aerith wouldn’t charge for her work, but Jules always offers 1,000 Gil for the remedies and the doctor always charges more.”

“... So, would it be terrible if I refused payment this time?” He truly wanted to, to teach the doctor about human kindness and not being a judgemental asshole. 

“Hehe. Maybe just a small portion?” The voice that answered him was _not_ the housemother. But he still _knew_ it. Intimately. 

Turning slowly, he caught sight of Aerith smiling at him. She was a little bit away from him, with a few kids around her, tucked into her sides and happily clinging to her. It was nice to see her, no matter how odd it felt. 

“Aerith!” The housemother lightly chastised. But he could tell from the look in her eyes that Aerith wasn’t going to be swayed from her words. Aerith on principle believed in fairness, but when angry or facing humanity’s cruelty, she could be just as scary or borderline mean as any other human soul. 

“You are young Cloud then?” He blinked and nodded as he shifted his weight and stood straighter, waiting for whatever request the older girl would ask of him. 

“Mmhm.” He hummed as he turned to her. 

“Then I request you only ask for whatever Andrea’s original offer was. Give only a small portion to the doctor, and keep the rest for yourself. Besides, the request technically came to the _healer_ and _florist_ of Sector 5.” Aerith smiled as she spoke, her green eyes flickering at him with that dark seriousness and playful mischief. This wasn’t spite, just a lesson.

“Yes, ma’me.” He smiled softly at her, and as he made his way out of Sector 5, he made a mental note to write to Tifa about how happy she looked. 

* * *

Despite Aerith mentioning Andrea’s name on the order, he still checked in at Jules’ gym first. The man wasn’t there, and was in fact, out of town at present, and so he moved instead towards the Inn. He kept his backpack and new sword close—being a discarded junior buster sword—as he traveled through Wall Market.

His nerves were skyrocketing, leaving him slightly shaky as he slipped past the barrier rope at the doorway and parted the curtains of the entryway. 


	6. Stubborn Ire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud finally meets Andrea Rhodea again. But Cloud can be very stubborn, and Andrea’s ire is nothing Cloud hasn’t perfected himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague mentions of injury in this. It’s not discussed in depth in this chapter, but it will be in the next one or two. 
> 
> Also: never ever get on a director’s bad side and be in an auditorium when you’re not allowed to be.

The front lobby was empty, and while not as lively as his memories, he could still hear music and voices from the stage. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

Perfect timing for the mantra to echo up from his memories. But, he couldn’t deny the comfort and courage he felt by the words. Even as he hesitantly opened the doors to the show hall and slipped quietly inside. 

Andrea was once again center stage, in free moving pants, a light t-shirt and slightly heeled shoes. His hair was still cropped short, and his beard seemed to still be present, but Cloud was nowhere near close enough to the stage to see. He knew rules of show etiquette, from various sources and common sense gathered over the long years, and so he kept quiet and mostly out of sight as the dancer’s worked through a new routine. 

Some were struggling, but Andrea was a force that helped them pull up and gravitate. For the first several minutes, Cloud couldn’t tell what exactly Andrea’s supposed injury even was, but then he made to turn and spin, and Cloud could see the forceful way the muscles in the man’s leg and back sought to give out. The timing, and Andrea’s attempt to hide it from his dancers however, caused him to lock eyes with Cloud. 

“Is there a reason you are in here?” Andrea’s voice was angry, low and deadly; it surprised Cloud to hear it, and served as a reminder of what other jobs and positions this man held in Wall Market. But, Aerith had sent him on a delivery and he always kept his word. 

Standing slowly, Cloud lifted his backpack and stepped forward so Andrea could see him more clearly. “I was sent on a delivery for Andrea Rhodea, from a concerned Sector 5 resident. They asked me to speak to him?” It was a half-lie, and it felt awful to lie to this man, he could tell it eased the dancer’s ire. 

“... Very well. Take your breaks, I’ll return when I’m finished dealing with this.” He watched Andrea as he moved from the stage and beckoned him to follow, so he did. 

It wasn’t hard to once again follow Andrea’s lead, especially not when this was simply walking up a few flights of stairs and into the man’s own space. Even with the flaring injury, one that Cloud just  _ knew  _ was sending bolts of pain up and down Andrea’s spine, the man still moved with that pretty grace. Easy and near ephemeral. It was all easy and smooth until Andrea turned, still with that hot ire and rounded too sharply on his right ankle, causing a high shocked sound of pain to escape him and Cloud was those extra few steps to the older man, catching him and helping him sit on the floor. 

He always ended up supporting people in this exact position whenever he caught them from a fall. Tifa, Jessie, Aerith, Kadaj… and now Andrea. This one had his face burning a bit, smelling the other’s cologne and sweat, hearing the pained but stifled noises coming from the other and realizing how similar this was to the memory of Andrea dipping him on stage. Those memories, that last life… 

And  _ somehow _ Aerith had sent him straight here. 

Sighing, he gently moved around Andrea’s larger frame, holding him sitting up to reach and grab a pillow from the nearby settee before lowering it and Andrea to lay out flat on the floor. Moving around the other, he stood and found his way around the small kitchenette area, looking for cups and tea mixes. The box from Aerith came out of his bag, and he smiled at the prepared drink mixtures as well as a bath bomb, and a jar of balm. All smelt of her lilies and all the other healing herbs that he’d never quite memorized. Yuffie and Nanaki knew them all, and he knew most by sight or smell, but names escaped him. 

It took only a few minutes to boil water for tea, and to rummage in the smallish fridge for a few leftovers before moving back to Andrea’s side and helping him sit up braced against the footrest of the settee. 

“You’re an idiot.”  _ Not… how he wanted to begin.  _

“... I didn’t order anything.” Andrea hummed, that sneer still maring his otherwise handsome face. Looking at him this close, Cloud could see the beard was still the same, and that the man’s eyes apparently flicked from a light, pale green to a misty gray. 

“Hm… well, someone ordered healing herbs for you. So, you’re not hiding this injury as well as you seem to believe you are. Sir.” He tacked on the last just as he stood to get the tea made and pull the leftovers from the microwave. Moving back to Andrea’s side, he hummed and huffed at the silent tears running down the elder’s face. It… hurt, to see him like this. Kneeling back down next to the injured man, he held out the bowl of pasta and set the tea beside him. “Eat first, or the healing herbs I added will make you sick. No charge either…”

“No charge? You won’t impress your employer nor make any income if you do that, little one.” Andrea’s voice was still cold, still twisted with pain, but the slight endearment gentled some of it.

“I’m my own employer, and I don’t charge people in need. I’m technically a merc, or a delivery boy. Us in the slums need to look after one another.” He sighed at the shocked look that briefly flickered over Andrea’s eyes, shifting them to an almost hazy hazel color. “Eat, sir. Then I’ll help you up.”

“... You don’t have to stay, I’m not an invalid.” He was at least eating, and taking small sips of the tea, but he was still cold. Still cruel in a way Cloud hadn’t seen in the two days span. He knew of course, that was nothing to go by, and whispered words spoken truly gave no real insight into a person’s soul, but… the tension and closed off body language spoke volumes. Andrea wasn’t just physically hurt, something must’ve happened to keep him locked in his own head. 

“You’re pushing or punishing yourself too much.” Cloud spoke softly as he stood and gave Andrea space. The way the man’s eyes flared looked like he would be smacked for his words. Tifa had nearly hauled off and smacked Rude once for saying something similar, for asking after her when things were still too raw to settle their minds over. Besides, he wasn’t afraid of Andrea, just… fearful over what could’ve upset him so much to do this. 

**_I need to get topside._ **

**_That… I can’t assist you with._ **

Andrea had still been in his dancer outfit that morning, when he and Tifa had visited Jules’ gym, and when he’d overheard Jules’ nagging at Andrea to stop. 

**_You pushed me through my stress and fatigue._ **

He’d thought it then, of how unhealthy that was for him to do, and it coming to mind now settled some things in his mind. Still not the cause of it, but a possible how he injured himself. 

* * *

Cloud sat next to a sleeping Andrea, after hours of fighting and forcing the man to stay off his bad leg and ankle, all of Aerith’s various herbs and concoctions had finally put the dancer to sleep. Cloud had in equal parts silently nagged, blocked and braced the other while intermittently giving soft spoken lectures and offering to listen. Slowly, as Andrea had come to realize he wasn’t going to scare or shoo Cloud away, he’d stopped fighting and had allowed Cloud to help him soak, wrap his ankle and then run messages downstairs to some of his little bees that Andrea wouldn’t be onstage for a few nights. 

The compromise to Andrea being still had been Cloud getting him his folders and sketchbook to make notes and plan performances. Even grabbing his accounting books and helping him check inventory. It annoyed the older man—and Cloud could tell some of the bees—that Cloud was stubborn and wasn’t intending on allowing Andrea back up on that ankle anytime soon. And that Cloud was more than willing to waste a full day damn near babysitting the man. 

Still, Cloud wasn’t going to let the man injure himself. Perhaps he’d never know what had caused the stress to skyrocket so high, but he couldn’t in good conscience walk away after the debts he owed. Even if those debts had yet to exist in this lifetime… and had only existed that once. 

“You’re staring, doll.” Andrea’s voice was quiet, but still sudden in the silence. 

“Just thinking.” He hummed, watching the more gentle look in Andrea’s eyes as the man actually looked at him for once. 

“About?” Andrea shifted, mindlessly then, and Cloud was up and moving as a sharp pained gasp broke from the other’s lips. Cloud was up on the bed, gently easing Andrea’s larger frame back flat to the mattress and then moving the injured leg back to prop up on pillows. Keeping the swollen and pulled muscles up to relax the blood flow, and the stress on the injury. 

“About you. About what possibly happened to make you overwork this much.” At the cold look returning to Andrea’s eyes, Cloud sighed and shook his head. “I wasn’t asking. Calm, Andrea.” He gently placed a hand on the man’s bare chest, easing him back into the pillows and shifted to sit sideways and propped next to him. If Andrea wasn’t hurt, and if he was older, he would allow himself to actually stop and admire the man below him… but as it was, Cloud refused to entertain the thoughts. 

“... I’m not worth all this worrying you’ve been doing, doll.” Looked like the endearment was staying. Cloud sighed as he reached back and grabbed the balm from Andrea’s side table, then moved to his injured side and began to tend to the injured ankle again. “... Cloud…” The man  _ had  _ listened to him introduce himself then. 

“Andrea, you’re hurt. Would you rather have a newbie merc and delivery boy running errands for you, not telling anyone that you’re injured,  _ just busy _ , or would you rather one of your bees step from their duties? I’m sure they all care for you, but word in the other slums is that you work for Don Corneo, and this getting out would mean trouble for you. Trouble for others too, am I right?” He spoke softly, calmly but steady as he gently moved and tended to Andrea’s leg and ankle. He wasn’t sure entirely what was wrong, as there was too much swelling for him to see, but he knew first aid. 

“... You’re an observant little thing, doll.” He startled at the sudden touch of Andrea’s fingers beneath his chin. The soft touch guided him to look up into Andrea’s face, where a faint glimmer of that confident smile was appearing over his lips and sparkling in his eyes. “... Hmm. What I wouldn’t like to do but keep you.” 

“I’m not cheap if you’re suggesting work, Andrea.” He blinked up at the man as he shifted, and then moved so the dancer wouldn’t upset his back and core muscles again. Tucking into the older man’s side. 

“You’re a pretty thing… age?”

“Fourteen, fifteen in August.” He chuckled at Andrea’s shocked look. “I grew up fast.” 

“So noted, doll. Hm… do you have a phone?” He hummed as Andrea moved his face this way and that. He felt more manhandled than the dance had. 

“Nope.” He hummed as Andrea tugged at his hair, the long ponytail he hasn’t had a chance to cut yet. “Saving up. Had to buy the sword first.”

“I see… country boy?” Andrea’s hands turned from his face to his hands, tracing the lines and massaging out the strained tendons. “Smooth, few callouses.”

“I helped my mom out mostly. Just the two of us.” He offered in explanation. Huffing when Andrea tapped his hip and turned so his back was to the dancer. “What  _ are _ you looking for?”

“... You have good posture, though you slouch too much.” Andrea hummed, turning him back to face him. “Pretty face, soft features. Ever thought of dance?”

“Not gonna happen, not for you or anyone else in this seedy town… not for another four years at least.” It wasn’t like he  _ didn’t  _ want to dance with Andrea again, he just didn’t want to do it nightly or on any regular basis that involved the stage. 

“I thought not.” Andrea chuckled low, his hand coming up to trace Cloud’s jaw again. “I think you would be simply…”

“Perfect?” Cloud cut him off, gently lowering Andrea’s hand from where it had come to rest on his cheek. “No matter how old or mature I may look or sound, whatever age you see in my eyes, Andrea… I’m fourteen. I won’t be near your vision of beauty or perfection for some time yet. But, if you have a serious job for me, I’ll take it.” He gently placed Andrea’s hand back over his bare abs, and moved back to tending to the injured ankle. “For now, get some sleep.”

“I’ll be getting you a phone, doll.” Andrea’s voice was soft, easing back into sleep. 

“Whatever you say, Andrea.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if anyone is wondering/worrying: Andrea overworked, stressed, came down on his ankle wrong and it resulted in tearing his Achilles heel. This is an injury I’ve suffered (I only missed tearing mine by going to the ER in time) and yes, it goes from your ankle and all the way up your back in blinding and muscle pulling pain.


	7. Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude of jobs and errands that end on a note of trouble.

Cloud’s first job as Andrea’s little merc and delivery boy is to run to the seamstress boutique in the sector and give them the new set of costume designs, for a special upcoming show that will be graced by Shinra executives en masse. There are apparently many people that Andrea has to cater to. 

The second job is greeting Jules upon his return to the city and asking him to come visit Andrea at his earliest convenience.

After that, he’s pulled into running errands for Madame M and Sam. One of Sam’s chocobos was injured and needed special healing herbs, which sent him all the way to Aerith’s doorstep—who just _knew_ what he was after; and Madame M was picking up new supplies from the train station in Sector 7 that were delayed because of fiends too close to the station. 

It was day three when Andrea presented him with a cellphone, a good and sturdy flip phone with remarkable email capabilities and Andrea’s number already programmed into his contacts _and_ set to speed dial. 

On day six, he happened to be swinging by with flowers from Aerith—still hadn’t had time to talk with her—that he ran into Scotch and Kotch messing a little too much with a few Honeygirls, and he turned from setting the basket on the reception desk before kicking the two assholes out of the Inn. 

Day seven was spent with Andrea in the show hall, playing assistant choreographer as the man sat in one of the front booths and directing a few basic blocking and steps with his bees. 

By day eight, Cloud was used to bouncing between Sectors 5, 7 and Wall Market. To the point that a few of his things were in Andrea’s rooms and the various shops of Wall Market had taken to recognizing him on sight as Andrea’s “pet merc”. Most were wise enough not to call him a pet to his face, but those that didn’t resulted in sky high prices for his work until they wised up. 

Around days nine and ten, a few more Honeybees grew fond of him and the glaring ceased… at least, until Cloud was protectively pulled away from a visiting guest and perched onto Andrea’s lap with the man’s arms tightly and possessively holding onto him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Andrea 100% programmed his number to Cloud’s speed dial and set it to number 1.


	8. Stressful Dressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shinra show is finally here, and Cloud lays stressing as he hides in Aerith’s church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: There is brief and light mentions of past dangers/troubles with the Inn and Andrea. As well as brief worries over the other side of the Honeybee Inn.  
> It is not explicitly said in-game, but the Inn *does* also serve as a brothel. Just, careful as you read.

It’s been a month since Cloud began working for Andrea Rhodea as his little “pet merc”, his delivery boy and assistant. He’s glad that Andrea listened and stayed off his injured ankle—not that they knew what exactly he’d done—and he was grateful to Aerith sneaking to Wall Market with him and healing it the rest of the way with a week to spare for the Shinra show. It was a day that meant he was absolutely _banned_ from the Inn. Mostly for his age, and on a smaller level due to the exact people that were in attendance. Andrea had too many things to manage, too many people to cater to, and what made Cloud’s skin absolutely _crawl:_ his own private clientele in one or two of the higher ups. 

Andrea had absolutely refused to tell him just who his clients would be that night, when he shifted from the stage and into the brothel side of his job… but from the slight way his skin paled, and Jules bristled, it made him worry for the older man. For his safety, and the information from the Honeyboy that had done up Cloud’s makeup—that not even President Shinra himself would survive the wrath of Don Corneo _or_ Madame M—if Andrea was hurt _again_ … well. 

Cloud’s nerves were absolutely _shot_. 

Which is how he ended up sprawled out in Aerith’s church, carefully in the middle of her flower bed and trying to read—to breathe—and not worry over a man that had possibly been selling his body for at least the last decade or so. Still… he knew the cruelty that Shinra executives were capable of. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

He groaned at the words echoing. They weren’t nagging this time, just… not at all helpful. Nothing for the last two days had been helpful in soothing his worry and fretting. 

He’d even allowed the makeup Honeyboy—he _really_ needed to learn his name—to pierce his ears and mess with his hair before a few of the girls dolled him up in—once again—a gothic aristocrat dress. They’d pulled him on stage, taught him a waltz and had Andrea chuckling over it. Which is _why_ he’d allowed them all to play dress up with him. To make Andrea smile, and to momentarily distract all the Honeybees from their stress. At least _this_ dress hadn’t been as frilly as the last one, that lilac thing, had been.

Extensions and some frills had been involved, and two of the girls had _waxed_ his legs—ow—but the dress itself was far slimmer and shorter than the last monster of a thing he was rushed into. It was a dark, but slightly dull maroon and red under layer, with blouse sleeves, under a black lace corset and light over skirt. Small silver crosses accented in a few places at the cuffs of the sleeves, the black lace of the skirt, and one dangled with a string of pearls from the black and red headband. Over the dress was a short cape, with a soft lace covered hood and accented with two roses and another cross dangling from yet another string of pearls. The look was topped off with slender but nice boots and a cane—that he still suspected to be Andrea’s—and then his studs were replaced with crosses and…

Pictures had been taken and Aerith had _yet_ to regain her giggling breaths. Word on Tifa’s reaction was still out however, as she had yet to respond to his letter that had included pictures. He could faintly hear her reaction though, the giggling and trying not to tease noises. 

In fact, he was _still in the dress_. Had walked all the way to the church from Wall Market with the hood of the cape up to hide his face and eyes as he walked the connecting and winding roads. That early morning, letting the bees play and breathe before tonight… 

It was worth it. Just as dressing up to help Tifa last time had been worth it. 

… he couldn’t stop his fretting and stress though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes they managed to get Cloud in a dress once again, and yes he allowed it if only to see Andrea smile and forget his worries—however briefly. 
> 
> https://pin.it/Qe3Q8OK
> 
> This is the dress that inspired this; I personally love it. 
> 
> I also think that (while I love the three dress), that the lilac (the one I got) is just a tad *too* much. Too much muchness. So, when I went looking I wanted something still elegant, beautiful but a bit more gentle and youthful. 
> 
> Also also: who began the naming of the Honeyboy that does Cloud’s make up “Claude” and please can I use it because it’s become *engraved* into my brain. 😣😖


	9. First Class Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s morning, and Cloud sneaks back into the Honeybee Inn, just in time to catch his first glimpse of a few high class officers within the Shinra Elite, and overhear a bit of a worrying discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: Very vague references/allusions to rough treatment, sex work/workers being a commodity and “merchandise”. It’s not an opinion of a main character, but is discussed.

He was still stressed out, and still wearing the dress, as he made his way towards Wall Market and the Honeybee Inn at first light. It was a slow walk, made slower by a mist that had settled in from rain and the plates overnight. It was odd, the way that he could still smell and feel the rain on the air despite not being able to actually _see_ the sun. But, even without the weight of his sword, and the knowledge of how fiends liked to come out after storms, he wasn’t afraid of finding trouble. Despite the cane that had been given to him to complete the look being intended for aesthetic, it was solid wood and titanium. Strong, sturdy and weighted similar to Aerith’s rods and battle staves. 

It was all he found himself needing, to chase off a few pests—both fiend and human shaped—as he stepped into Wall Market and then tugged up the hood of the short cape when his eyes caught sight of Reeve, Tseng and a few others from Shinra. Slipping around behind the Turks, and using Rude’s solid body to hide from Heidegger, Palmer and _President Shinra_ himself, he made his way further towards the Inn and slipped into the lobby just as the sight of long silver hair and a red trench coat came from the brothel entrance. Slipping into a blind spot, covered over in shadows. 

“You need to watch your temper, both of you.” He only faintly recognized the voice, and leant forward just enough to catch sight of a large and familiar Buster Sword. Angeal Hewley was standing nearby the brothel doors, a blonde Honeygirl hanging on his arm and looking tired—but calm. 

“... Hm. Heidegger needs to watch how he treats people… even the ones that he sees as ‘merchandise’.” Sephiroth’s voice was deep, but far more strained and annoyed than Cloud had ever heard… even with Zack’s borrowed memories. 

“I also refuse to see _any_ beauty be harmed. Andrea Rhodea is a _gift_.” Genesis’ voice was a low snarling growl. A Honeyboy and Honeygirl were each nearby him, holding gently to his arms in a similar fashion to Tifa and Aerith’s habits of holding onto him. 

“You broke Heidegger’s _arm._ ” Angeal huffed out an exasperated sigh. Cloud shifted to look, blinking in shock as a sleepy looking Honeyboy leant back against Sephiroth’s chest. 

“He deserved worse.” Sephiroth scoffed as he ran a soothing hand down his escort’s side. Soothing and a glow of healing green floating down the man’s back. Similar glows falling over the other First’s companions. “Besides, Andi wouldn’t tell him to get off.”

“... And if Heidegger goes after either of you for it?” Angeal still looked exasperated. The blonde on his arm rubbing up his bare bicep in a soothing manner. 

“Then I get to go a round two with him, ‘Geal.” Genesis huffed as he gently pulled from the little bees on his arms. “Sleep well, lovelies.” 

“You as well.” Cloud blinked as the four bees bowed to the three SOLDIERs and made his escape out of the lobby with the distraction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this, wrote a few versions of this chapter and this was the one that kept elbowing its way in. 
> 
> It makes my insides squishy too. I’m sorry. 😞


	10. The Safety In (and Hatred of) Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud checks in on Andrea, and while relieved... wishes he hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Hints at nsfw things but nothing is shown.

Cloud snuck through the brothel hallways, quiet and able to hide within the dark cast shadows from different Shinra Elites slipping in and out of rooms as Honeybees bid them goodnight—or simply farewell. He was looking for Andrea’s room, knowing the man would be in the best and most elaborate room. He wanted to check on him, make sure he was alright after what he’d overheard from the three Firsts. 

It took a bit of time, but he did finally find the elaborate doors that marked Andrea’s domain. Flashy and demanding attention even under all the harsh red lighting so synonymous with brothels. Harsh and low, making things difficult to see; exactly the point. 

The doors were shut, no sound reaching from inside, but unlocked. Swallowing, he gently eased the door open just enough to slip inside of the suite. The open room was dark, not at all lit up and simply a common area. A drink bar off in one corner, a slightly open door to a bathroom—like a soapland—and to the left stood a slightly open door where the sounds of moaning could be heard. 

He recognized Andrea’s low timber, gasping and a choked moan sounding from the room; it didn’t sound distressed, but he wanted to be sure. Slipping closer, he angled to see into the room through the crack in the door. 

He couldn’t see much, except for one of Andrea’s lightly tanned arms thrown out to the side and half hanging off the bed, matching the sight of black and gold sheets draping onto black carpeted flooring. 

“Too much, Andi?” The voice sounded familiar, low and playful. A tone he’d heard before. Moving his angle of spying, he felt something ease in him when he caught sight of wild, bright red hair moving over Andrea’s tired body. 

“Just… ab~ _out_!” Andrea’s rough voice broke into an overstimulated moan and the familiar sound of Reno’s laugh hit Cloud’s ears. The familiarity of Reno, of knowing the inner caring heart within the wild Turk, eased the last of his stress away. 

“So pretty.” Reno’s praises faded as he slipped back out of the room. The sound of another overstimulated moan from Andrea’s mouth caught and echoed in his ears as he shut the soundproof doors and made his way carefully back up into the Inn proper. Slipping back out of the building and into Wall Market. 

Heading towards the church. 

Resolutely ignoring the burning feel of… _something_ in his gut causing his cheeks to flush. 

Resolutely ignoring the taste of salt on his tongue and the feeling of…

Of _something_ rippling through him. 

It was unfounded but…

Cloud shook his head as he raced back into the church and towards the flowers. He refused to acknowledge the crush. The… _anything._

Nope. Definitely… _no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: You’re lying to yourself Cloud. You are 100% jealous. Yup yup yup.  
> Note 2: Hiiii Reno!  
> Note 3: When I started on this chapter, “Once Upon a Dream” by Lana del Ray (her version) came on my Pandora radio and it so perfectly fits this story and I had to stop and giggle for several minutes over it.


	11. Don’t Wanna Talk About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud just doesn’t wanna talk about it. He’s good at that. Two lifetimes of practice and all that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falling for someone—and realizing it—hurts.

It’s been a month since the Shinra event, and Cloud has managed to keep himself busy running errands between Wall Market, Sector 5 and Sector 7. Every morning it’s a trip to Leaf House and to check in with Aerith, around noon it’s checking in with Leslie at the Hangout—and  _ that _ was a shocker. After lunch it’s a run by Wymer’s and looking in on Biggs and Wedge at the Watch, followed by a few deliveries and checking his mail for word from Tifa. The early evening is spent at Jules’ gym, with the older man helping him through Shinra training regiments—a booklet he managed to get from  _ somewhere _ that Cloud refuses to contemplate over. And then, right around the end of dusk, it’s a call or text from Andrea and his work at the Inn begins. 

He doesn’t bring up the Shinra event, and Andrea has shown no signs of having actually seen Cloud sneaking around, so he ignores it. He also resolutely ignores the way his stomach turns whenever he catches sight of Reno being Aerith’s guard on weekend afternoons at the church. 

The evening after, when he came back to check in on Andrea, the man had still been in bed. Exhausted and sensitive to any type of touch, even Cloud simply massaging out tension in his forearms or rubbing his temples in a bid to rid the older man from his exhaustion induced migraine. 

He didn’t bring it up, and the dress went into a separate armoire, in a protective bag. Forgotten until the next time the bees and Andrea would need a distraction. Cloud didn’t even hate it, it was far more comfortable than the dress loaned by Sam after all. 

He also tried  _ very hard _ not to think of the sounds of Andrea’s voice low and husky, cracking under Reno’s laughter. Andrea had been naked that evening after, the touch of anything but his fine sheets causing rippling in his overstimulated nerves. He’d seen the bruise at his throat, a bruise on his cheek—both he was sure were Heidegger’s marks—but over his collarbone and down his chest, to his hips and even on the bit of lower abs visible above the sheets… were hickeys and lovebites. Possibly all just from Reno, but Cloud didn’t want to ask. 

He was still resolutely trying to ignore that low embarrassing burn in his stomach, that sent a rush of bitter pain up into his chest and caused his face to flush red. He had never felt jealousy, had never cared for anyone for it to exist before now. 

A part of him wished he  _ hadn’t  _ gotten to know Andrea, and yet he couldn’t imagine only having memories of that dance either. 

At night, on the nights he slept at home instead of in Andrea’s rooms, he’d practice that dance again and again. Trying to remember it, and refine it to perfection. He didn’t want it to fade away. Even if the… whatever thoughts he’d had upon waking up back in Nibelheim were no longer within his new mindset—he told himself it was all dumb, and refused to acknowledge they’d ever existed in the first place. 

Some people noticed his shift, the stress in his eyes and frame as he went about working harder and harder to get his mind off Andrea, and they all asked if he was alright. The only answer he had for any of them was “don’t wanna talk about it”. And he didn’t. Not to Aerith, Tifa, his mom, the housemother or Elmyra, and definitely not Marle. And extra  _ especially  _ not to Jules or—Gaia forbid: Andrea himself. 

**_Don’t ever be afraid, Cloud._ **

“... Ugh… shuddup.”


	12. Fifteen and Counting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Cloud’s birthday, which means he’s finally eligible to apply to the Shinra military and is also the night of another stress inducing performance for Andrea. 
> 
> Sweet moments can still be stolen though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: More very light and brief mentions of the brothel half of the Inn, but not a main focus. There’s also a moment where mental health/self image is mentioned concerning Andrea, but is not fully gone into. And the idea of those in the line of sex work having no self-ownership. 
> 
> Just be careful while reading, and be safe lovelies.
> 
> -*—*-
> 
> But mostly it’s sweet things.

All too soon it was August and with it brought two things: his birthday and his eligibility to join Shinra’s ranks as infantry. The first step that he would need to get into SOLDIER and to meet Zack, try to find Roche—if he exists—and to hopefully stop Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis from losing their ever loving minds. If he made it, and began to get that slightly higher and more permanent paycheck, he could also send money to his mom and save up to bring Tifa here. Tifa had been saving up, her letters included expense reports lately, and she was looking forward to joining him in Midgar. In seeing Marle and all the others again. 

What August also brought was another stressful round of precise planning due to a visit of possible investors from Junon and Costa del Sol. There wasn’t planning that broke down to every finite and minutiae moment of the night, which allowed him light breathing room, but seeing Andrea stress and plan still got to him. Watching the cold ice baths—something he noticed Andrea did when he felt… _lesser_ —intermixed with steam showers to relax tired and overworked muscles, resulted in him allowing the different bees to capture him once again and doll him up.

The surprise came on Cloud’s fifteenth birthday—not that any of the bees _knew_ that. Cloud was caught by Jules early that morning, the older man actually visiting him in Sector 7 and requesting him to assist with a few things. It wasn’t even a hassle of a request, with Jules and the few bees he was close to asking to doll him up. 

“To distract Andi, _please._ ” The blonde of the girls had pleaded with him, her hair cascading down in slight curls over one shoulder; Artemis, one of the girls from his memories that had trained him—and the girl he’d seen on Commander Hewley’s arm—was one of the few girls he actually allowed to bully him into such theatrics. 

He’d been reluctant, and had only conceded when Jules revealed the new dress for him. Another short skirt, mid-thigh and the underdress solid black. The top was styled in yet another blouse style, this one with slight ruffles in vertical lines over the collarbone and chest, stopping just before the start of his pecs. The sleeves were a soft lacy mesh material, stopping at his elbows, with two ties and slightly draping down. Black lace cuffs served as gloves and at his throat was a blue ribbon tied in a bow serving almost as a tie and held in place with a small curio pin. Over the black dress was a blue vest top that fell into a skirt, not quite a frock and slightly stiff, but still comfortable to move in. Faded blue-black tights were added to complete the look, with black ankle boots trimmed with another blue bow. The headband this time was far thinner, and disappeared into the faded pastel blue and purple wig, with a black and blue ornament—once again with pearls and a rose—and completed with a sapphire filigree ring on his left pointer finger and matching earrings in his ears. 

The preparation kept him away from Andrea for most of the early morning, and then just after lunch as he was escorted and positioned in the front booth before the stage. The bees tittered and giggled around him as they stepped up onto the stage to practice the opening routine, and he sat still with a lingering sense of deja vu as he sat patiently and watched the stage. 

Cloud shifted as familiar music—but not to this lifetime—began to play, and found himself relaxing ever so slightly as he softly smiled. Despite whatever he’d been feeling since the Shinra incident, hearing the song settled the uneasy rattling in his bones. Andrea had said he was working on a new routine, and to see that it was _this_ opener was… a bit more like coming home. Not that everyday spent with Andrea wasn’t already a bit of that feeling, but this was harder and fuller. Settled a bit more firmly into his soul, allowing him to relax a bit more and smile softly at the stage.

Andrea shined as he worked through the routine, and it was enchanting to watch the full number—without it interrupted by an impromptu dance off and makeover. Andrea was in casual dance clothes, a thin and lightweight black t-shirt paired with black yoga stretch pants and his shorter heeled dress shoes. He looked stunning, marvelous and breathtaking. Cloud could feel his lips pursing together, trying not to smile too fondly or pout too much. With each move, he could feel himself falling harder and faster for this man. 

Feelings and emotions he didn’t, and _couldn’t_ address while so young—or ever. Andrea was a dancer yes, but he was also still one of the Don’s _Trio_ , and far more importantly to remember was the fact that his body was not truly his own. Andrea had a three year out client list. He tried to stay blind to it in those early months of being around Andrea, but after the Shinra incident, it was ever present in Cloud’s mind. Andrea was a dancer, but he also sold his body to the highest bidder. He knew, for a fact from helping him do the books, that Andrea charged upwards of 50,000 Gil an _hour._ Being the star, the centerpiece of the Trio, and running half of Wall Market granted him the luxury to be picky in that regard. People paid for his flare, showmanship, the entertainment, that false smile and his body. 

Not that Cloud thought any lesser of him, or any of the bees—everyone had their reasons—it just _stung_ to find his mind and soul so dead set on someone so thoroughly unattainable. 

Andrea was a flirt, sure; and more often than not Cloud could ignore it, but on the days when Andrea was _off_ or stressed, Cloud could see the softer sides of the man that valued beauty as an art form and he would find himself falling just a bit more. It was new and terrifying to realize that he’d apparently shared one dance and a few short conversations with a man that made his living by pulling people into his spell and had fallen head over heels for the older man. The crush had been planted when they danced, and only cemented with that dip and those parting—reassuring—words. 

He did even _exist_ in the first round of memories, their time had been so short compared to all his other interactions with people, and the second round of memories decided to focus on the dancer. To the point that his inner mantras involving Zack and Aerith, mantras he used to get by, were replaced with Andrea’s echoing words. 

As the music finally stopped, and Andrea ended on the final pose at center stage, he pulled himself from his thoughts and clapped. Found himself smiling softly when Andrea’s eyes met his own and waved with both hands at him; demurely—as trained by Syd, Artemis, Avaline, and Gabrielle—and from slightly mimicking Aerith’s movements.

Cloud chuckled lightly as Andrea’s eyes widened and his real, amused smile flickered over his lips as he descended from the stage and made his way out to Cloud. Leaning forward slightly, he allowed a fuller smile to grace his features and stood carefully from the booth so Andrea could see the latest vision that the bees had created. 

“Well well well, Cloud. You look… stunning.” Andrea’s head tilted, and he mimicked the action. His voice was still that borderline childish, not fully deepened from puberty yet, but he still preferred not to speak while dolled up. His voice wasn’t like Jules’ after all, not androgynous enough to speak without breaking the spell. “What is the occasion?” 

His head tilted the other way, his hair ornament jingling with the movement, and gestured with both hands in an open gesture towards Andrea himself. The man had learnt to read Cloud’s personal brand of sign language and silent body language quickly, after the first few times he’d worn the red number with crosses. 

“Me?” Andrea’s head tilted, and his eyes flickered to that light green color in his soft confusion. Cloud simply nodded to reaffirm that _yes_ he meant Andrea. 

“You’ve been so stressed lately Andi!” Syd, the precious Honeyboy that always did Cloud’s makeup cooed as he came up to Cloud’s side, hands gently on Cloud’s biceps as he leaned slightly to smile up at Andrea. “You needed the distraction.” 

“Yeah!” Artemis cooed as she bounced up to Andrea’s left side and lightly tugged on his wrist. “You always smile and slow down when we doll Cloud up.” 

“Oh? Using my love of beauty against me?” Andrea’s voice slipped back into his teasing timber, but still Cloud found himself smiling because it was still _real._ Andrea never put on his faux exterior when it came to the bees, real friends or Jules. His little extended family meant the absolute world to him, and Cloud admired that—it only made him fall more for the showy man. 

“Well, I need a shower before tonight.” Andrea sighed as he extracted himself from the suddenly appeared Avaline and Gabrielle—truly those two always popped up out of nowhere—and gestured for Cloud to follow him. And Cloud did, gently moving from Syd’s grip and trailing after the older man. 

It was… _bittersweet_ , for Cloud to be following in the man’s footsteps as they walked up to his private rooms. He would be joining up soon, and that meant he wouldn’t be free to visit for a long time. Perhaps, it would be good for Cloud, to get away from Andrea and get the scent of his cologne out of his nose. Get the warmth of his arms out of his every day sensation when Andrea would hug him to his side, or come up from behind and steal a startled hug whenever his harness and sword wasn’t on him to impede the action. He planned to stay this last week in Stargazer Heights too; in order to reacquaint himself with sleeping in a non-luxury bed, and alone. 

“You look very nice, doll.” Andrea’s voice pulled him from his thoughts as the door to the suite closed and the dancer sat on the low bench by the door to take his shoes off. “Your birthday is soon, right?”

Blinking, he nodded slowly; momentarily blindsided until he remembered telling Andrea his birthday was in August—just not when. 

“You should allow me to do something for you, before you run off to join Shinra.” Andrea’s eyes flickered over to hazel, but only for a few seconds before shifting back to that green-gray. “For your birthday, if not a going away thing.”

He frowned, feeling his brow furrow and his patent pout finding their ways onto his features. Andrea was already up and moving towards the bathroom though, intent on a steam shower to relax his muscles and rejuvenate before the investors show that night. Sighing, Cloud followed after and leaned in the doorframe, watching as Andrea started the shower and peeled his shirt off. 

“Actually…” He began softly, hesitatingly before continuing as Andrea turned to look at him questiongly. “Today is my birthday and I’m reporting to barracks is in a week.”

“I…” Andrea’s eyes flickered over to hazel again, then down to gray as his shoulders slumped and his weight shifted. He looked smaller, standing like this and near pouting. His sadness radiated off him in waves, and while Cloud wasn’t sure of the full reasons, he could still recognize the body language. He was a master at talking through his depression and melancholy with gestures and non-verbal cues. “I see.”

“... I’m sorry, Andrea. I wasn’t keeping it from you, I simply forgot until it was suddenly here.” He hummed, turning as Andrea stood straighter, his eyes flickering back to that green-gray before turning the shower on. 

“I believe you. I… allow me to do something for you before tonight?” He turned back as Andrea sat on a bench in the bathroom and peeled his pants off. His tight black briefs pulling slightly down his hips as he moved. “If you’re free from other plans, that is.”

“... Alright, but nothing that will put strain on you before tonight.” He wouldn’t allow Andrea to overwork himself again. 

“Very well. Now, shoo before the steam kicks up and ruins that lace.” He hummed but turned and pulled the door shut behind him at Andrea’s bidding. Gabrielle had explained to him once how heat and steam could cause lace to bunch, pucker and pull, and ever since he made sure not to leave the Inn on hot days when dolled up. He also took to the habit of stashing cool water bottles around the Inn for all the bees. 

It felt weird—to say the least—that after today he wouldn’t be back here for awhile. He had Andrea’s number of course, along with the girls’, Syd’s and Jules’; but actually stepping foot down to Wall Market during training wasn’t just not allowed by schedule—it was forbidden as a recruit. Even the lower levels and ranks of cadets weren’t allowed down into the city’s pleasure district. In fact, going to the slums while not on leave to visit family, or not on registered patrol wasn’t allowed. To slip around some of the stipulations and rules, however, he’d marked Marle as his grandmother and Jules’ as his emergency contact. He had contemplated putting Aerith down as a sister or cousin, but had ultimately decided against it, since she had the Turks still watching her. 

He sat on the daybed—his bed—and tucked himself into a corner with pillows to read as he settled to wait for Andrea.

* * *

The afternoon hours spent with Andrea were lazy, but fun. Andrea had managed to convince him to make a trip up to the Plate with him—in the dress—and spent the few hours of downtime showing Cloud around. Mostly in Sector 8, in the entertainment district of the city. 

He didn’t talk much, keeping the vision in tact, but gave more free smiles and even soft but stifled chuckles as Andrea walked through the center of town in a nice pair of black designer jeans, a black tank top with a dark gray skeleton design with a white and gold heart over where his own would be, and an entirely too expensive leather trench coat on over top. For once the dancer wasn’t in his heeled dress shoes, and while the combat boots he had on were flat, they weren’t too heavy and fit Andrea’s muted look. They even matched, with a lapel pin of blue roses and hanging pearls in the trench coat, his ears adorned with sapphire studs and a simple black leather cord tied around Andrea’s throat. Simple accessories, but beautifully tied together: a work of art. Just as Andrea had said in his memories. 

He followed after Andrea, listening to stories and paying attention to best deals, how to haggle on the Plate and directions to almost any path that would quickly get him back to the train station and down to the slums. 

People still talked, whispers spoken softly over who Cloud could possibly be, with questions and comments on beauty. All things he resolutely ignored in favor of seeing Andrea smile and laugh after so long of being stressed and nearly overworking himself once again. If Cloud wasn’t about to leave the slums and be cut off from seeing the older man for what could possibly be anywhere from _weeks_ to _months_ , he wouldn’t have allowed all of this public walking, alas… it was worth it. Even if it didn’t help the painful rolling in his chest of that annoying crush, the worrying protection and—when they almost ran into Reno—burning annoyance and jealousy.

They grabbed a late lunch at some point, and Andrea pouted until he allowed the older man to step into a jewelry shop to buy Cloud a few sets of simple studs as birthday presents. He allowed one set of small diamonds, but refused anything bigger or more elaborate. He also conceded to Andrea’s eyes turning gray as he fussed over a few jackets for Cloud. A short but thick jacket for cold nights, a long wool coat for winter and a short but flannel lined—with fur collar—military style short jacket that could be worn with the recruit and cadet infantry uniforms. Once again, Cloud ignored the possible sources of such knowledge, but he was still extremely grateful for the gifts and allowed Andrea to walk with Cloud tucked into his side. 

Overall, it was a good birthday. Silent on his part, and extremely bittersweet, but good. 

  
He would deny it later, when he was back in his regular clothes—and the dress was added to the armoire with the other—of the way his heart skipped and fluttered in his chest as Andrea finished dressing in his stage outfit for the night and bent to kiss Cloud’s cheek, whispering words of _good luck_ and _happy birthday_ in his ear before letting him go and moving to the ground floor for last minute checks. 

He definitely _did_ **_not_ ** blush. Nope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once again found a lovely little dress for Cloud to wear, and this is the inspiration for that:
> 
> https://pin.it/1E2JSWB
> 
> I also named the makeup Honeyboy and the three Honeygirls that you meet when Cloud practices his dance moves, and then sit with Aerith during the show. (Note: yes the same models are recycled in-game, but these names are specifically these three girls).
> 
> \- Makeup Honeyboy: Syd (I wanted something androgynous because he’s such a pretty boy)  
> \- Blonde Honeygirl: Artemis  
> \- Dark skinned Honeygirl: Avaline  
> \- Brunette Honeygirl: Gabrielle
> 
> -*—*-
> 
> PS. There will be a “soft stop” in this fic while I go backwards and write a few Andrea POV things, then this will return. 😉 💋


End file.
